When I Ruled the World
by Sokai
Summary: When the dust has settled . . . when the battles have been lost . . . what is left to ponder, when faced with the road's end?


**When I Ruled the World**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own the fabulously fantastic and ironically uplifting song, "Viva La Vida" by Coldplay. However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Uh. Right. This was honestly irritating the crap out of me, ever since this song first debuted. My Muse instantly hit me over the head with an idea to go along with the song since then, and has been bugging me to finally buckle down and write the damned thing, even though I ONLY have about a BILLION other stories to update and am in the middle of doing so...sigh. LoL _

_So, right. I instantly thought of Prince Phobos when I'd first heard this song, and...well, just read. LoL_

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This story/chapter was created/written in July 2008.

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It is a pure wonder, the true mysteries and never ending reveling of life . . . it's unpredictabilities -- Even its portended nature in contrast, are nothing short of unyielding prodigiousness.

For you see, the man I once was and the man I now _am_ are positively unmatched fragments of the same, admittedly vainglorious entity. And had I not personally experienced and navigated through the convulsive existence that is my own, I would have never believed to have been successful in accomplishing all that I had, before having been forced into destitution. . . .

_I used to rule the world  
Seas would rise when I gave the word _

Ah, the good old days. How numerous and well deserved they had been, in all its delicious splendor. When every last being within my rightful kingdom -- My _world_ -- would bow to and obey my every whim without fail.

I was the widely celebrated, fantastically bedizened prince of Metamoor.

_Now in the morning I sleep alone  
Sweep the streets I used to own_

Now, I am nothing more than a distant, swiftly fading memory, wallowing within my own pool of miscalculated executions and underestimated faiths.

I am now a prisoner of my own former monarch, _and_ of my own mind.

_I used to roll the dice  
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes  
Listen as the crowd would sing:  
'Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!'_

How effortless it had been, with my might, to instill great terror and turmoil within the very hearts of those who would wish to oppose my rule, finding great joy the moment the chaos of their inevitable downfall had been introduced into their very _being_ with the simple flick of my wrists.

I can still manage to recall, being so well lived for so long, yet remaining unmarred in youth, the day both my mother and father had passed on. How resplendent that moment had been, for I was next in line to become my homeland's active ruler, and without question its most preeminent for many a year to come.

_One minute I held the key  
Next the walls were closed on me  
And I discovered that my castles stand  
Upon pillars of salt, and pillars of sand _

Having lived for as long as I have, one thing I can say for certain, is that no matter how confident one may be within every facet of one's life, there shall always be an underlining, problematic element that might stand to unravel one's sturdy foundation.

Perhaps, looking back now, this had been my one and only Achilles Heel.

_Ha!_ How delectably ironic!

The very pride and complacent attributes I had meticulously cultivated for what has felt like eons now, are what have ultimately done me in!

For, had I instilled even but an _ounce_ of circumspect within both myself, as well as my every action during my rule, I would have been able to foresee and most assuredly prevent my own defeat and removal from power by my very own kin . . . the only being in existence who, I will confess, _could_ have stood proper chance in doing so.

I should have known that Princess -- _No_, regrettably now _Queen_ Elyon, had not perished as a mere infant when I had ordered her death, as I had been mistakenly reassured by those within my court. I should have been more fruitful within my efforts to scour the whole world over until irrefutable evidence of her continued existence had been retrieved.

So many times has my mind gone over the different scenarios, different paths I had not taken and now wish that I had. The many "if only"'s and "what if"'s that constantly replay and reverberate within the confines of my consciousness.

But the most prominent I shall always hear, until at last I take my final breath -- However long, or perhaps soon that may be, at this juncture -- is:

If only I had realized far sooner that my palace had been built upon nothing but smoke and mirrors, from the very moment I had assumed power, and that my esteemed allies and court were nothing more than bumbling, _useless_ buffoons, I know, _without_ a doubt, that I would have found Elyon from the start, disposed of her once and for all, and still be ruler today. . . .

_I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing  
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing_

Oh. What is this, now?

Even from where I now unavoidably dwell, within this dark, dank and minuscule prison cell, well below the palace that was once _mine_ and is now my younger _sister's_, I can just make out the faint, although distinct sound of . . . chimes?

No, _bells_.

And is that singing?

Yes, no doubt in celebration of yet another year or so, I honestly can no longer be bothered to recall, of what Elyon and her followers believe to be peace and order.

How wonderfully droll.

_Be my mirror my sword and shield  
My missionaries in a foreign field_

Oh, if I could rise up, at this present time, and snuff out the very jubilation the "new" Metamoor unanimously harbors!

No. Not _entirely_ unanimous.

I am sure that there are quite a fair amount of abettors who still remain out there, whether within neighboring lands or this one, itself, who would one day lay siege to all those who have chosen the way of Light and its fatuous bounty.

And I do so plan on still being around to witness such a befitting, and just occurrence. . . .

_For some reason I can't explain  
__Once you go there was never, never an honest word_

I wonder, though . . . if that would truly be a just act? As I have made note of earlier on, life is truly capricious, so I do honestly now wonder if all that had transpired had not gone as it had been intended?

Have I, in all this time, been deceiving myself into believing that the actions I had willingly charted out been for all the right reasons? That the end had truly justified the means?

Is it _not_ Elyon who is the _true_ culprit to my newfound misery, or . . . could it be, in fact, that it is _I_ who am at fault?

_That was when I ruled the world_

_It was the wicked and wild wind_

_Blew down the doors to let me in_

I suppose this is the one and only upside to being eternally imprisoned, it certainly feels like, being able to have apparently profound, reflective moments such as these. Because, I had never honestly bothered to stop and wonder the lasting impact my leadership would have upon the people who used to be my own, and if it had been beneficial to them.

I had only myself in mind, and nothing else, as I continued to expand what I could truthfully more so refer to as my _empire_ more than it had been my kingdom. Had I been as great of a ruler as I have always believed?

_Shattered windows and the sound of drums_

_People couldn't believe what I'd become_

I believe I could very well have just blocked it out, deluding myself even further . . . the citizens, whom I'd surmised to have been on my side, had all _instantly_ turned against me and eagerly sided with Elyon, nearly the precise moment I had been stripped of both my title and already fleeting innate power we pair share as a birthright.

Had they and my former court _truly_ had been as maladroit and spineless as I had always thought? Or had they possessed great cunning that could rival even my _own_, wishing only to survive within the ruthless world I had created, by following my every command with a _seemingly_ purblind notion so I would be none the wiser?

_Revolutionaries wait  
For my head on a silver plate_

_  
_ Amidst the many allies I am now beginning to believe I do not and never had, there are even _far_ more _enemies_ who would love nothing more than to have my mortal coil at last severed, once and for all . . . _namely_, the ever-rankling Rebels, who had been there, every step of the way, to contest my reign.

If I had thought about this nearly conclusive fact near the start of my imprisoned term, I would have undoubtedly expostulated with silent planning of fierce vengeance in return.

_Just a puppet on a lonely string_

_  
_Yet, now . . . as I now continue on to think about all that I had accomplished -- And even of my _family,_ in a more in depth manner than I ever had before in my life, and of how they had ruled _quite_ differently than I -- I am left to pose the query of whether or not these opposers would be _wrong_ in wanting to do away with me permanently?

I was never meant to be next in line for the throne, it must be understood . . . for as long as it has existed and forevermore, it has always been the born female to become active ruler, as she is the one endowed with all of the inherent power housed within the Royal Family of Escanor.

My father, Royal Consort Zaden, would never have become king in the first place, had it not been for my mother, Queen Weira's untimely death during childbirth with Elyon. And _being_ that Elyon, herself, had obviously been far too young yet to rule in our mother's stead, it had fallen upon my father's shoulders to do so in the meantime.

And, given that I, myself, had never been so keen upon this unwritten rule that forever blockaded not only myself, but perhaps even the future male heirs I might have had from becoming kings, ourselves, you can imagine how embittered it made me to watch my lucky _father_ do what I could not, at least until my sister was old enough to take over for herself.

However, there again, did life play a funny hand within the sculpting of my life and how it has come to be, for my father had suddenly taken ill just a couple of years after my mother had passed, before passing on, himself. Many had believed it to be brought on by a broken heart of having lost his lady love, I can remember hearing being circulated as rumors throughout the palace.

I have never been one for such platitudes before, especially being that I was never truly that close to either of my parents, so hearing such nonsense mattered not to me. Taking my father's place _did_, and then somehow dispatching Elyon without giving rise of suspicion that _I_ had been the mastermind of its engineering.

Alas . . . all of that is forever in the past, and cannot be changed . . . although, now, I believe that my unceasing desire to, regardless, is for an entirely different, more overt reason.

_  
Oh who would ever want to be king? _

_I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing  
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing  
Be my mirror my sword and shield_

_  
My missionaries in a foreign field _ _Still_, they ring, and still, they all rejoice up above. What was once a feeling of immense resentment and fueling, calculating rage against all those who continue to exult and are free, is now surprisingly mounting, foreign _lament_ that I, myself, am no longer. And I have no one to blame -- However long I had actively done so -- for what I have done.

Not Elyon, nor the Rebels, nor even the elementally infused Guardians of the Veil who had also helped fight alongside them both to overthrow me.

_For some reason I can't explain  
I know Saint Peter won't call my name_

_  
_ It was my own life to craft into any way I saw fit, for good _or_ for evil, and I had willingly chosen the darkened path of no return . . . there is no redemption left in sight.

No Light to grace my sight and embrace me openly and warmly, as it has for everyone else above.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, with its absolute power to corrupt absolutely . . . and mine was the heaviest, most corrupt of all.

_Never an honest word  
But that was when I ruled the world. . . ._

**-- The End**

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**(A.N. SCREW YOU! It just came to me, damn it! LoL So I know it sucks and I don't honestly care right now, because I'm running absolute ZERO in terms of energy. I'm STARVING! Sacrificed getting some food so I could finish this before I lost interest and momentum. LoL But there it is, finished. I know it might seem a bit OOC for Phobos, to reflect actual regret and sadness, even, but then again, how do we KNOW that it really IS OOC? Who's to say he wasn't the sweetest person on the planet back in the day, but the desire to rule instead of Elyon just overtook him? So that's what I wanted to do in this story, with the help of the song. To illustrate two sides of the spectrum within Phobos: The beginning, showcasing the typical, pompous and remorseless individual we know him to be and for what he'd done while in power; and then the second half, reflecting him actually taking/having second thoughts about what he'd done, and thinking "outside the box" and outside himself for once, which in turn made him realize his true mistakes. Like I said, this song, from the moment I'd first heard it, instantly made me think of Phobos, and what I honestly believe he'd think upon during his basically eternal imprisonment after Elyon took over as ruler of Metamoor, with the constant theme or his reiteration about life in general, and his own and its direction. I mean, wouldn't you, if all you had left was lots, and LOTS of time to do nothing BUT think?? LoL)**


End file.
